Panopticon Prevalence
by ChocolateCarnival
Summary: At the first taste of betrayal and despair, Vision is eternally thankful for the man that taught him the comfort of compassion and returned to his side. Yet, as the events of the Avenger's internal conflict finally reaches peak level, there is so much guilt and remorse he has yet to make up for. The knowing that something deeper flows between the shards of existence he once was.
1. Prologue: Eminence

Hello Again, My Honeys

I just couldn't seem to leave this alone. I've always wanted to write a Vision centric fic as there is so many new emotions and sensations to explore, especially with the complex structure of how he was born. This story is a Soulmate and Canon Divergence AU (set right after Civil War), so please head the anxiety and so forth that will be coming of it.

JARVIS, also, is not 'integrated' completely into Vision's matrix. There are shards of his existence still woven through Vision's soul, meaning sometimes he's like a separate personality. Not a 'multiple' personality but a fragmented piece Vision can decipher messages from every now and then.

Anyways, I don't want to give too much away. This story is quite heavy plot and emotion wise so I do hope I can entice my Honeys to stay and enjoy the ride. It's going to be a wild one.

* * *

 **Prologue: Eminence**

His mind was carefully woven from both ancient synapsis and purely synthetic circuitry, the very source of naïve avarice and old-as-time consideration. Yet, at the first taste of bitter betrayal, the evolutionary being's entire world disintegrated in a cloud of rusted blood and crumbling granite. The mind stone was a constant burden upon his brow, impossibly heavy with both metaphysical emotion and incessant, howling, pain.

Born of a thunder god's prophecy, a benevolent A.I's matrix, its creator's depthless sacrifice and a monster's nightmare; Vision was the cosmos' first ever progressive entity. He felt more, saw more, understood more and yet remained consistently vulnerable. He was the very embodiment of new life, hope, protection, strength and ceaseless compassion.

And for the first time in his half-year of existence, the android couldn't help but curl instinctively in upon himself as unsteady fingers found a vicious iron strut thrust through his abdomen. Artificial silver blood was bleeding cathartic rivulets across sanguine red skin, the taste of dust and metal opening up a doorway into new-found terror as creation turned itself a vicious acerbic black.

Eight stories he had been impelled through: the kitchen floor, underground training room, Tony Stark's private workshop, the bunkered basement far below and into the very foundations of the Avenger Compound. Vision's mind was still reeling internally, recoiling instinctively at the spear of mortality it forced him to acknowledge. There had been no way to slow his violent and uncontrolled descent mere seconds before, nor alter the impossibly dense but brittle mass weighing down his body.

There was no _way_ he could have known, could have _expected_ to beinjured by so little. Not by steel, not by blood, not by iron or concrete. Distantly, he was well aware that on a molecular level, vibranium became unnecessarily unstable when its density didn't equal mass and it vibrated at high speeds. Having outside forces play with the delicate balance he carefully contained every hour of every day, made him just that much more vulnerable.

 _Never_ had he thought he could fear such blatant violation from a known ally however, _not_ from Wanda. He could no longer turn a blind eye to the pain, the simmering rage and betrayal slowly consuming his body from within. What if her actions changed things for the team irrevocably? What if she upset the careful balance so intricately woven between several egotistical superheroes? Mr Stark would definitely see this as a blatant violation against those under his and the Accords' protection.

Blinking absently at the pained regret stinging the corner of his eyes, electric cyan and dotted white irises blurred with telling emotion as a sanguine frame silently willed itself to move, to rise out of the pit he had been thrust into and finish what had been started. He had promised Mr Stark he would protect Miss Maximoff, both from the public and brutal judicial government.

He should complete that duty, even if it was blatantly clear he couldn't alleviate her sense of isolation and internal remorse. It was just as he had said a few days before: _conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight…oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand._

His heart was pounding an erratic rhythm deep in the hollows of his chest, a cry of anguish spilling painfully passed sanguine lips as he violently wrenched himself free of iron impalement. The explosion of pain it created was absolutely excruciating, several system warnings screaming unintelligibly through his cerebral circuits as FRIDAY'S distressed query echoed deafeningly from above.

Iron Man's unique mind was fast approaching from the east, three minutes to arrival by distance calculation. The older man's brief trip to Germany had probably taken just as much of a disastrous turn, going by the news report of several hours before. Vision was carefully tilting his head towards the sound of sleek black helicopter blades slicing smoothly through swirling black clouds, his flickering will successfully subjugating the mind stone as it fizzled frenetically over countless ion molecules pressed up against his skin. A lithe hundred-and-ninety-two-centimetre frame was rising smoothly upwards, absentmindedly taking in the scent of burning shrubbery and lingering orange embers dancing hypnotically in his periphery.

Hovering serenely above the deep hole he had clawed himself out from, the truth of the current situation tasted of nothing but ash and pain to him. Vision's palm was curling gingerly over the leaking wound carved deeply into his side, rotating blue-white irises fascinated by silver blood droplets pooling rhythmically at the edge of jagged granite rock.

The effervescent sway of an ephemeral-amber cape was perfectly accentuated by the haunting chromatic grey of his suit, the crimson-silver of his skin reflecting darker in the midnight madness as he willed himself to stay perfectly still. His mind was unexpectedly captivated by reflective moonbeams sneaking passed small kitchen windows—.

"Vision! Hey, you here? Vis?!" Turning instinctively towards the sound of Tony Stark's mounting distress, the aforementioned android was somewhat surprised to note a bruised and battered billionaire storming fitfully into the compound kitchen. "FRIDAY said you weren't responding and—."

"Oh god…" Trailing off at the sight of the evolutionary being quietly settling himself back on his feet, only to stumble forward when agony shot up his spine; Tony frantically flew forward to wind a supportive arm around a slim waist.

"Christ! Are you alright?" The question was a simple one. " _I don't know."_ Vision sounded out carefully, leaning appreciatively against the pillar of support the older man provided as he was slowly led forward and settled into a soft leather armchair. Mr Stark was already calling for one of his beloved robotic creations, U, to fetch the specialized medical kit down in his basement lab over intricate Police S1948 Interface sunglasses.

"No. I don't suppose you would, Big Red." Tony replied absently, gentle fingertips hovering uncertainly over the jagged wound cut into the crimson being's side as he impatiently tapped the otherworldly grey fabric wrapped around a sculpted torso. He needed to get Vision to expose the wound, to see the damage they were working with. Concerned _Türk Kahvesi_ brown eyes were locking briefly with swirling blue irises from behind red lenses, a slightly crooked smile of thanks curling up the corner of a perfectly groomed goatee as his request was eventually granted.

"Shit! That looks bad. Are you—." Craning his head forward to see the damage done to his body, Vision didn't even flinch at the lance of pain the movement speared through his brain as he hummed nonchalantly before calling up full control over his running processes. "Logically, the nanites synthesizing my blood should have the ability to seal any type of wound from the inside. I believe it was created in the unlikely event that someone ever managed to penetrate the vibranium binding my cells."

"Like that, I can also inhibit the pain receptors in my brain for several minutes to make what comes next a slightly more bearable process." Taking note of the slightest tremble wracking unsteady fingers, a sanguine forehead creased in considerable confusion as he turned helpless, pleading eyes towards Tony Stark. "Would you mind, terribly, Sir? In assisting me with weaving stitches? I seem to be experiencing mild shock."

"Y-yeah," There was a shuddering breath hitching noticeably in the genius' lungs. "Alright, V. Just don't sound so calm all the time, _fuck!_ You must be in a lot of pain."

"A fair bit," Vision returned mischievously. He trusted this man with his life, as both his creator and friend. The operational matrix woven so carefully throughout his very foundations, was humming gently with JARVIS' understanding and calm influence. Sometimes the A.I talked to him through flashes of binary, a deeply integrated part of his 'soul' that was always impossibly gentle with the man before him and dryly sarcastic at Vision's every human error and his creator's listless antics.

As they waited for the arrival of medical supplies, the billionaire enquired as to what had happened in his absence. Explaining the quantified control Scarlet Witch had had over the mind stone and her outside influence upsetting the balance within his molecules, increased the metaphysical anguish tearing violently through the depths of his heart. There was an irritable sting glassing over his eyes, his mind quietly attempting to manipulate the synapsis of his brain to dull the pain further, only to learn, _unexpectedly,_ that physical and metal pain were two completely different things.

He told Mr Stark his observations out of curiosity, honouring the genius' request to keep talking as nimble fingers eventually sterilized a needle and thread before methodically leaning forward to sew up his wound. The request to alter the density of his from and explain how he did it, seemed to light a fire of fascination behind dark eyes as the man removed his glasses, alleviating a bit of the simmering rage Vision could see consuming previously hardened features.

Those fingertips were infinitely gentle wherever they touched, perfectly steady and used to working closely with the world's most delicate of machinery and countless explosive components. The flicker of artificial light from above, harsh and unyielding, darkened the bruise marring a left brow and countless small scars crisscrossing calloused hands. It was bringing out several silver filaments woven naturally through mahogany brown locks.

The careful way in which Tony Stark worked a little slower and more carefully with his left hand however, belayed an injury the man himself had received as Vision cautiously brought his hand up to drift compassionately over a bruised cheek. He didn't want to startle the billionaire, especially not when swift movements severed a thread and needle and stained fingers rummaged restlessly through the medical kit for a fresh roll of bandages. There was no joy in ratcheting up the man's already mounting anxiety.

"You are injured," He pointed out carefully, a feather light caress laying boldly across battered skin as wide brown eyes collided heatedly with dotted white. "I—."

"It's fine, Vis. I'll be okay." Tony reassured softly, carefully wrapping up his hard work after having curled a brief, reassuring, grip through sanguine red fingers. The Vision's hand was warm, running several degrees hotter than human skin as the billionaire stood with protesting knees and patted a strong shoulder somewhat patronizingly…just to see the fire of irritation swallowing inhuman blue irises.

"Look, I never intended for the Accords to get in the way of how the team stays together. This situation is quickly spinning out of control and I need — I'm going to need your help, buddy, to stop Steve from making an even bigger mistake." Startled by a reassuring grip curling firmly around his shoulder, Tony watched in fascination as the tall android got to his feet, suit perfectly in place and an amber-gold cape cascading evocatively down a yet to be burdened back.

"You need not ask, Anthony. I shall always stand by your side." There was no indication of the devastating wound the genius had just stitched up, his mind slightly shaken by the violent concern he felt for the red being's wellbeing as he nodded in quiet thanks and got ready to gather the rest of the team to help in their next quest.

As long as Vision was alright and he wouldn't have to lose part of his soul again, Tony thought things would be okay.

 **. . .**

It was a tragedy. Sixty-seven hours, twenty-three minutes and forty-eight seconds since the disastrous confrontation in Berlin, Vision's world was once more crumbling apart. He couldn't bear to see Mr Stark so fragile and small, the usually proud man confined to a bed in the infirmary and imprisoned by incessant beeping machinery.

The monochrome skyline, dipped in velvet black rainclouds, spread melancholic precipitation over the vast distance as the sun finally decided to set on upstate New York. It was cold, the mid-autumn snap sneaking passed cool tile floors and frosted glass windows. There were too many chrome plates and icy concrete laid throughout the facility, only a soft dark blue eiderdown duvet; deliberately pilfered from Mr Stark's private quarters, tucked an injured hundred-and-seventy-six-centimetre frame within a cocoon of steady warmth.

Vision had surreptitiously connected to FRIDAY's mainframe earlier, shunting the A.I's increasing workload over to himself as he locked down the Avenger's facility from the inside and cleared only two others, whom he knew Mr Stark trusted irrevocably, for entrance as he settled his consciousness deep into the circuits controlling room temperatures, medical staff clearance and notable diagnosis.

In Siberia, the forty-six-year-old had been severely injured at the hands of Steve Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. The damage of a vibranium shield thrust through the Iron Man chest piece had cracked not only a few ribs within the billionaire's already compromised sternum but affected the severity of his already damaged heart.

Watching the dark-haired man now, pale but thankfully having the strength to breathe on his own, he couldn't help but obsessively count every inhalation and exhalation spilling passed parted lips. The array of scrapes and bruises marring hauntingly attractive features, only added to the constant twinge in Vision's side as it reminded him of the help the older man had so generously offered him not so long ago.

He was still weary of the course the events had taken, however. The sensation of guilt and brewing uncertainty left a distinctly bitter taste in his mouth. He had unknowingly taken away someone's ability to walk, missed the important transmission between FRIDAY and the authorities in Berlin and barely even noticed when Mr Stark left to gather information at the Raft. It made the progressive android wonder if he was beginning to show the disassociation of a monster and not a human. He certainly wouldn't _know_ if he was one, right?

There was a violent and insatiable need pulsing to life within him, to wreak havoc upon every single person that had ever hurt Mr Stark. The inexplicable impulsivity was overriding some of JARVIS' more benevolent protocols woven throughout his matrix, a lance of illogical fear and screaming vengeance piercing violently through every firing synapse of his brain.

Trembling fingertips were curling into frustrated fists by his side, the sanguine being briefly clenching his eyes shut against the soul deep anguish constricting his next breath. He promised himself, never again, would he let Tony Stark face his demons by himself. Especially after the physical strain of not only losing his relationship with the one he loved but once more finding himself alone in a world where his best friend was paralyzed and his life had been thrown upside down with the discovery of a twenty-five-year old secret.

Without JARVIS by the man's side or the comforts of his true home in Malibu, Vision swore that he would stay for as long or as close as Mr Stark desired. It was only fair, after all. The forty-six-year-old was the only human capable of understanding the emotions bubbling so distractingly in his own chest and explaining their importance without expecting payment in return.

"I promise to protect you, Sir." He whispered carefully, echoing the discretion his thoughts had taken as time flowed into an imperceptible bubble around them. There was only the rhythmic beep of machines and a small shift on the dark-haired man's bed to answer his declaration, grounded footsteps gliding evocatively over cool tile floors as the tall being took a seat on a leather armchair settled next to the double bed.

Carefully taking an uninjured right hand in his own, methodical movements brought a fever-hot palm to lay tenderly over the pulsing mind stone imbedded on his forehead. Like this, Vision could monitor the depths of Tony's consciousness and tweak the flow of his dreams. He had been a careful presence throughout the last thirty-seven hours since Tony's arrival, making sure not a single dark thought or memory penetrated the depths of a well-deserved reprieve.

He himself was exhausted, even if he barely needed sleep like a normal human. Yet, as he stayed vigilant beside an infirmary bedside for hours on end, haunting cyan eyes drifted shut behind spun silver lashes as he laid a heavy temple upon his folded right arm. Never once did he shift the palm resting limply upon his forehead, strangely sated limbs unable to move from where he had gotten perfectly comfortable.

Enjoying the perfect heat muted black trousers, a crisp button-up shirt and form fitting dark blue jumper provided, the beat of a rested heart suddenly startled when an encompassing teal and amber entity rose up in the depths of his cortex. The flash of vibrant blue binary flickering to life behind hooded lashes, startled his drifting consciousness back to reality.

 _ **01010011 01101001 01110010?**_ (1*) Allowing a quiet smile to curve across the perfectly sculpted plush of his lips, Vision ran another in-depth body scan over Mr Stark's methodically rising and falling chest as he took note of surprising energetic brain activity pressing up against the mind stone. The remnants of what he knew was JARVIS, remained quiet in response to the results before sending another brief query.

 _ **01000011 01101111 01101101 01100110 01101111 01110010 01110100?**_ (2*)

 _Only because it is_ _ **you**_ _who asked._ He returned smoothly, a quiet hum of agreement hitching through the core of his powers as the mind stone bent and altered the flow of light around them. A flawless expanse of pale skin was smoothing over the metallic circuitry and exposed vibranium comprising his hands, the glow of an amber gem remaining firmly imbedded in his forehead as hauntingly attractive Nordic features looked out over a perfectly straight nose.

Unnaturally bright blue eyes were blinking in hazy compliancy, restless fingertips dragging thoughtfully through short, spiky, blonde locks as white dots and rotating silver circuits spun languidly around never still irises. He absolutely _refused_ to let go of the warm palm clasped so loving in his own, Vision had sworn he would never make the same mistakes again…not in providing Mr Stark the comfort and support he so rightfully deserved.

The paleness of his newly developed human skin, a disguise he had been practicing for several months now, lightened up the dim illumination of the infirmary room as he crossed impossibly long legs one over the other. He was absently reciting one of Sir's favourite books he could recall from perfect memory, using the sound of his voice to settle the ambience of the atmosphere and calm the erratically beeping heart monitor beside him.

"I shall remain right here until you wake, Sir." He vowed quietly, knowing that any other moniker dripping from the tip of his tongue would never make up the respect, affection, love and comfort he felt in the older man's presence. Just as Vision knew, his voice would always provide not only a spike a pain to the older man but a soothing reprise to his consistently damaged but beautiful soul.

Whatever the future held, he would not waver.

* * *

1* _01010011 01101001 01110010_ – Sir

2* _01000011 01101111 01101101 01100110 01101111 01110010 01110100_ – Comfort

Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. If I may be so bold as to ask for a tiny review and if you enjoyed it, please let me know. It would mean the world to me. Any questions you wish to ask or characteristics and plot you wish to debate or inquire about, please don't be afraid to ask. I shall always get back to you as soon as I can.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this construct.

Yours Always  
Chocolate Carnival


	2. Chapter 1: Situational Dysmorphia

Yay, I finished the first chapter. I apologize that it took a while to get out but as I said this story is a complex piece to write. It's so much fun trying to balance Vision and Tony's character that it took a little longer than I would have hoped to come out.

Anyways, I want to say thank you for everyone who has left me a review or kudos and bookmarks. It makes so happy to know my work is appreciated. I only hope that I can continue to live up to your expectation once again.

So please, enjoy the next chapter. :)

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Situational Dysmorphia**

Waking up was always the worst, the erratic rhythm of an aggravated heart beating frantically against the blood and bone of its prison. Gasping breaths were hitching violently in the back of a constricting throat, the screech of an excruciating migraine settling bitterly against the side of his temples as swiftly dropping blood pressure resounded deafeningly in the shell of his ears.

It was decidedly _not_ fun.

Tony Stark's senses were acutely disorientated, blowing his usual hypersensitivity out of proportion as his mind made the slow and devastating ascent back into consciousness. Soon enough, his world would designate itself broken and painted in the blood red film of his failure. He was shivering near constantly in the middle of a large double bed, having little to no tether to reality as painfully strained senses listened intently to the incessant, deafening, beep of an erratic heart monitor screeching somewhere off to his left.

The familiar but sickening smell of antiseptic and ammonia floor cleaner was churning nausea through the pit of his stomach, leaden eyelids refusing to open as his brilliant mind ticked obsessively over the immoral conflict that had landed him here in the first place. There was so much pain, _so_ much devastation and searing internal anguish spreading on every idiosyncratic retraction of his pulse.

The only person who had loved him unconditionally had been strangled to death by a man Captain America was willing to kill him for to protect. The fact that Steve Rogers had known the truth all this time, however. Had _known_ and neverhad the common decency to let him know he was living a lie — constricted very single breath hoping to fill his lungs. Tony didn't know what was worse: his one-time friend's inherent streak for bitter cruelty in the guise of 'doing what was right' or that he had to start the grieving process for his parents all over again.

The forty-six-year-old didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He could already feel the out-of-sync palpitations of his heart, the accompanying scream of damaged muscle for every jump in rhythm it made as it thrummed and howled with depthless anguish. The excruciating press of newly cracked ribs was drawing an acerbic hiss from the shattered fissure of his soul, forcing him to acknowledge that he simply didn't have the strength to hide behind wilful blinders anymore.

A watery hollowness was settling deep in the corner of clenched eyelids, a pitiful reminder of losing the soothing stability he had fought tooth and nail for to balance out his life—.

"Take a deep breath, Mr Stark." A honeyed voice whispered solemnly to his right, instantly cutting through the mounting panic decreasing the draw of his breaths as the softness of an expensive mattress shifted tellingly beneath a barely discernible weight. "You are in the beginning stages of hypoventilation." A blood-warm hand was twining tenderly through the quivering digits of his right, soothing away the disassociation that ratcheted up a flood of anxiety as it ignited false hope that reality was a little sweeter than he remembered.

"J?" He wheezed brokenly, unwilling to let go of the newly establish warmth threading their souls closer together than before as he used what little strength he had to squeeze back in desperation. The tips of his knuckles were being brushed by the casual softness of a steady thumb, settling a more substantial, human, weight against his side as a noncommittal hum met his breathless enquiry.

"Nothing can harm you here, Sir. I promise." A taller frame was leaning protectively over him, reading the neediness and fear swelling so potently through the older man's pinched expression as elegant fingertips disentangled their hands and eventually rose to brush sweaty mahogany locks away from his forehead. Tony himself was silently relaxing deeper into a haze of nonawareness, blatantly refusing to open his eyes just in case this was nothing but a medically induced hallucination.

"JARVIS?" He tried again.

"We _will_ protect you, Sir." God, that _voice_ …it was like experiencing a punch to the gut and a kiss on the forehead simultaneously. This was Tony's greatest creation, the soothing lilt and cadence of his most beloved A.I. But also, he was calming just enough to realize belatedly, the physical weight of another entity—.

"Vi?" His throat constricted painfully around the moniker, a pathetic whimper lodging itself within his next exhale as he forced himself to remember the monumental loss he had conveniently forgotten six months ago. It didn't stop the instinctive lean into soft pads cupping his cheek, however. Nor revelling in the careful strokes running steadily through the strands of his hair.

"I'm right here, Mr Stark." Came the lilting promise. "FRIDAY has already dimmed the lights for your current convenience. Please open your eyes." Frowning briefly at the simple but seemingly impossible request, the genius billionaire was surprised to find himself obeying as tired brown eyes fluttered open at the gentle fingertip running mere millimetres beneath his lower eyelid. The blurry, but quickly clearing sight that greeted him, was not one he was expecting.

This wasn't Vision. No, this was a holographic rendering he could recall from perfect memory…right down to the gold and copper filaments threaded through feathery, spiked blonde hair. The impossible attentiveness of pale Nordic features, thin but soft pink lips and the otherworldly brightness resting within inhuman cyan eyes… He couldn't quite breathe, taking in the distinctly visible gem stone embedded in the centre of a pale forehead. It was glowing a deceptively calm amber, telling the story of its own vivid reality as time seemed to suspend itself on a string.

"Vision?" He tried again, almost too afraid to shatter the stillness with too much noise. Tony's heart was racing a violent tattoo against his chest, the unsteady rhythm chasing a sharp pain through his lungs as the evolutionary being's current appearance only added to the devastatingly beautiful smile lighting up previously stoic features. It was almost as if the inventor's tentative response meant the world to him, the smallest flicker of JARVIS visible within that single expression as a shockwave of emotion flowed through vibrant acetylene-blue irises.

The holographic display J had barely, if ever, used since its creation, was curling around him now in a solidness he had always wished for but could never achieve. Tony could do nothing more but reach an unsteady hand forward and cling to the wool of a soft, cashmere jumper. He was not used to intimate human contact outside of Pepper and Rhodey's consideration, especially not when he was in such an emotionally and physically vulnerable state. Yet, the soothing gentleness of a platonic kiss pressed against his forehead, a hauntingly beautiful voice whispering tenderly in the shell of his ear and the proximity of Vision's sudden human warmth, did things to him he had long since forgotten.

 _The acceptance of comfort and compassion._

A telling sting was prickling painfully behind hooded black lashes, a heady shiver travelling down the length of the billionaire's spine at the inhuman press of the mind stone replacing warm lips. Vision was leaning over him in curious intimacy, almost too much too soon as brown eyes were swallowed by synthetic dotted-white irises.

"You are not alone anymore, Mr Stark." The otherworldly being promised. And Tony believed him, a hitching sob drowning out an explosion of anguish as he violently wrenched his head to the side. He didn't want to show this side of him to anyone, the fracture of loss that had broken through the indomitable armour of his soul. But the Vision was nothing if not patient, refusing to draw attention to the older man's break as he pulled back out of courtesy. He was settling his back against a wooden headboard, choosing to remain still and let the genius decide if he would press closer or remain distant—.

A fever warm forehead was swivelling around to press against his thigh, rubbing a stubbled cheek against bespoke fabric as Tony greedily drank in the human contact he so often deprived himself of. He knew instinctively that Vision would never seek something in return, he did not have the ability to do anything with an agenda in mind. The android was too pure and innocent, still having the admirable naivety of a young child that offered their love selflessly.

He didn't know what he had done to receive the android's consideration and protection, however. Not after the disaster that had taken place in Leipzig and his irrational anger—.

"You are thinking too much, Sir." Thin lips were curling in an expression of exasperated amusement. "It has been seventy-seven hours, twelve minutes and fifteen seconds since the confrontation in Sib—."

"L-let me stop you _right_ there." Tony whispered hoarsely. "It's Tony…just Tony. Not Mr Stark or S-sir. And w-whatever—." Violently interrupted by the dryness of his throat, a vicious cough reverberated through the bones of his already compromised sternum as steady fingertips brought a glass of cold water into the line of his sight. The icy coolness flowing soothingly down his throat, only accentuated the careful palm cradling his head back before his temple was eventually laid back against a soft array of feather pillows.

Tony didn't like the separation however, keeping his temple pressed up against a welcoming heat as the continuous release of despair transversed glistening tears over flushed cheeks. There was no going back after this, no fixing what was wrong with the world. This was not a problem the engineer could work over, under or around like he had managed to do so many times before. Tony didn't have the strength, experience or will to control the media shitstorm he knew was coming…nor the loss of faith people would have in the heroes selected to protect them. There was—.

"Very well, Tony." Vision interrupted before his thoughts could consume him once more, the flicker of a bloodied memory pressing up against his consciousness as he breathed heavily in strain. "I will always protect you." The android's declaration of a promise spoken once before, made Tony feel a broken, tremulous, smile breaking over the curve of his lips. Did he deserve it, though? Strain and exhaustion were already forcing the flutter of his eyes as he struggled to calm down.

Something ethereal and immensely powerful was flowing from Vision into him, easing away the resultant turmoil of memories racing through his mind and the constant pain of his injuries. Left in nothing but the embrace of a quiet stillness and a rising subconscious, the forty-six-year-old couldn't help but slip back into the land of darkness and dreams.

When he woke next, he was sure there would be more time he could spend coherent. There was a quiet but soft conversation passing between Vision and FRIDAY in the cool space around him, only the barest hint of understanding tracking the headlines, medical readouts and concern that no one had yet come looking for Tony. The two Artificial Intelligences were keeping their stream of words constant and soothingly quiet, a small consideration that allowed the billionaire inventor to drift off unhindered as he leaned into a warm palm measuring the falling isotopes of his temperature on his forehead.

Assured fingertips were straightening out the array of medical tethers that had unconsciously been dislodged in his earlier struggle, the tube of the IV pinching briefly in the back of his hand as long fingertips enfolded supportively around his own and depthless blue eyes never once drifted away from slowly relaxing features. Vision was constantly monitoring the normalizing beat of Tony's heart, his attention split equally between the concerned conversation passing between him and FRIDAY and tipping his head back against a dark headboard.

"Boss' vitals are settling. Perhaps you should rest too, deartháir (1*)."

"I'll be fine, FRIDAY." He returned with a smile. There was no need for him to sleep, vigilance at someone's bedside dictated a constant state of awareness. And since Vision only needed a few moments of hibernation every two-hundred-and-seventy-two-hours anyway, he could make sure he was fully cognizant the next time Mr Stark woke. He hated seeing the older man like this, it made him uncomfortable and afraid. It was—.

"Would you mind keeping an eye on the compound? I've returned most of the lockdown protocol to you, Mr Stark seems to need my full attention." At her inflectionless 'Of course', Vision seamlessly turned his thoughts inward as he never quite split his thoughts and careful monitoring away from the man he was sitting next to, nor the hand clasped ever-so-gently in his palm.

There would be time for logic and emotional upheaval later. For now, nothing else mattered than what he was doing and doing it right. There could be no waver in the logic that Tony Stark would get better. He would make absolutely sure of it.

 **. . .**

 **WARNING** : **Security Protocol S589, 'Ghost Detection' Firewall Activated.**

A deafening line of code was reverberating deeply within the centre of a synthetic mind, startling a dozing Vision from the deeply contemplative debate he had been having with himself on whether to stay and protect Mr Stark when FRIDAY was already there or move to appease some of the more insistent conference calls coming in from the UN.

"Situational Lockdown, FRIDAY." He breathed quietly. " _No_ one gets further than the first conference room other than on my or Sir's say-so." A code-laced acetylene blue gaze was spinning with inhuman concentration, a tall hundred-and-ninety-two-centimetre frame rising with carefully contained violence as the sound of his voice barely registered above a whisper in Iron Man's sleeping presence.

Perfectly polished black oxfords were clicking primly across sterile white floors, a shiver of hard light bending sharply around the angles of the otherworldly being's form as the sophisticated tumble of a thigh-length black cashmere coat settled like a regal mantle across broad shoulders. The notable amber stone embedded in his forehead, briefly retreating behind an illusion of milky-white skin and feathered, thistledown, wheat-blonde locks.

"Keep Mr Stark and the Stark Industries' servers offline, I do not trust the digital breech not to reach further than its current propriety." A pneumatic lock hissed shut behind his back in answer, the compound airwaves literally vibrating with the digital attack of someone trying to override the first level of security without clearance. Vision could only maintain the reality of a concealed gemstone for two hours without actively tapping into its power, a feat he was currently trying to avoid as much as possible for the sake of emotional stability.

 _Alas_ , the outside world had already deemed it necessary to intrude upon their blessed isolation.

JARVIS' carefully date-stamped and voice-logged memories of growing sentience in Mr Stark and Miss Potts's presence, already taught him more than enough factors present in human intimidation and suspected emotional manipulation. Considering that their current trespasser likely came from the military and the state, it wasn't hard to decipher a reason for their unscheduled visit. This was but a show of power against the Avengers, peacocking politics hoping to smear Tony Stark's good name and work across congress.

Vision would _not_ let that happen. There were no military contracts or explicit obedience clauses worked into the Accords except for the protection of the 'mission', neither did it allow for unsolicited visits from Non-Avengers or government agencies. The progressive entity may have been naïve in the common sense of descent human interaction and understanding, yes. But if there was one thing he was _unbearably_ good at, it was reading the intentions behind people's motivation and memorising the finest print hidden within legal documents.

Following in his wake was the echo of formally timed footsteps and swaying black fabric, the front entrance swarming with several men in crisp suits, telling briefcases, security wires and painfully straight postures. In the centre of the uncontained gaggle of madness stood their employer, silver hair and moustache not yet betraying the impossible anger hidden within red-faced features. Vision made sure his own expression was serenely impassive in response, carefully wiping away any sense of emotion that would dull intelligent cyan eyes.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Secretary Ross?" His tone was both clipped and formally polite, razor edged with a deeper understanding of the unexpected trespass the man probably intended anyone to have. A frown of irritation was creasing the former general's brow, those hateful pale eyes searching Vision's appearance for recognition and a level of importance. And when, unsurprisingly, he found none, the Secretary of State made the mistake of assuming he was in the company of a meagre compound or Stark employee.

"I'm here to see Stark, the rest has nothing to do with you." Vision didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved, knowing people rarely paid attention to his appearance and voice beyond the sanguine red and silver vibranium grafted into his skin. In this situation however, it came as an unexpected advantage. He was not bound to obedience or submission, giving him the ability to rile up one of the men responsible for this colossal mess in the first place. The flicker of dark humour within spinning blue irises was unholy sweet, curling a ball of tight anticipation in the pit of the artificial entity's stomach as he elegantly and deliberately crossed his wrists behind his back.

"I politely disagree," Vision was naturally taller that his verbal opponent, the straightness of his spine towering three-inches above all others in close proximity. "All current appointments with Mr Stark will be directed through me. Considering that Sir has also, explicitly, locked down the Avenger's facility after an internal betrayal, I find the fact that you are standing in front of me very suspicious." Holding up a polite hand before the older man could even make a hint of his displeasure known, Vision tilted his head cautiously to the side as he connected his gaze with one of FRIDAY's closest camera sensors.

Deep within the infinite reach fo his mindscape, the memory of JARVIS' carefully resurrected but barely altered codes flickered to life. He was seamlessly insinuating part of himself in his sister's codex like before, watching intently as she led an all-out assault against the digital trespassers still choking violently on Mr Stark's first unhackable firewall.

"You have no right to interfere here!" The general's wavering patience violently drew him back to the current situation, a flash of boiling rage now directed solely at Vision's deliberate interference. "I _demand_ to see Tony Stark! He has an obligation to explain the events in Leipzig and what we believe, he was the cause for, in Siberia!"

"I have evidence that he disobeyed the mission directive and let Barnes and Rogers escape." There was a tiny waver on the word 'evidence', the 0.04 second hesitation a telling indicator that the man's words were not as truthful as he led others to believe. _That was indeed interisting,_ Vision thought to himself. Secretary Ross was attempting to break the firewalls of one of the most advanced computer systems in the world, solely for a reason to prove his (somewhat right) assumption that what happened over the last few days in Siberia was somehow connected to Iron Man's unusual silence.

How he managed to figure that however, when there was literally no physical record or notable digital trace of the events anywhere else in the world, was entire other story.

"What evidence, Sir?" The progressive entity pointed out calmly. "Mr Stark has been inside the compound ever since his return from the Raft prison." He did not dare flinch at the bold-faced lie spilling passed pale lips, contemplative acetylene blue eyes flickering briefly towards the group of guards now shifting uncomfortably beneath their employer's ire.

"He has been nursing the wounds sustained in battle several days ago to save _you_ from the humiliation of being unable to capture and contain one man." There it was, the casual point General Ross obviously didn't want the rest of the Accords' panel to know. The man was here looking for a scapegoat in Tony Stark, the one person in the perfect position to take the fall for both the brass and the government's public mistake.

Regardless of the unknown role the billionaire had played in the unfolding events in Germany, Siberia or on home soil, which Vision was well aware no one else but those explicitly involved knew, he would not allow state politics to lead a smear campaign against the man who deserved it the least.

"You—." There was something lethal in the wave of rage that washed over tensed shoulders, a willowy hundred-and-ninety-two-centimetre frame never once vacillating in conviction as a touch of merciless steel bled silently through a perfectly polite veneer. "You shall not gain access to Mr Stark today. He has declared a situational lock-down until such a time as all other parties can be cleared of suspicion. And until I can be assured of the safety of both himself and the Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, all appointments shall be routed through me."

The sheer disbelief directed at his statement brought Vision a deliberate step closer. His arms were spreading in a sweeping gesture, a careful and clear path mapped out to the front door in a not-so-subtle indication for the men to leave. He was losing his patience, vividly aware that their interloper was demanding his authority be obeyed. Yet, there was no time for him to waver or be overwhelmed.

"I will not leave until I have talked to Stark myself." At the digging in of the Secretary's heels, blue eyes narrowed down in deliberate warning as an intimidating smile of all teeth spread across previously impassive features. Vision would not allow himself be pushed aside by misplaced authority, this was essentially Mr Stark's private domain…no one but those closest to him had any say on what happened here.

"May I remind you, Sir." A calm cadence pointed out, his voice deliberately soothing and simultaneously reverberating with the strength of vibranium. "The three-man team you have attempting the breach the internal security in an armour-plated SUV just outside, in order to 'find' your so-called evidence, is a blatant violation against the rights of the Avengers in residence." There was no concealing the threat, the knowing of a plan the older man had hoped to execute with no one the wiser.

"Is that a threat?! You—! I will have you arrested for the obstruction of legal enquiries—."

"No, you won't." A flash of otherworldly power darkened inhuman blue irises, a bleed of anger discolouring pale cheeks as the rigidness in his spine forced the perpetrator several steps back towards the doors they had entered through unannounced. "Once the Accords panel receives a report on the actions you have taken against us here today, I can _guarantee_ that locking me in a cell or using Mr Stark as your closest available scapegoat shall be the very _last_ of your worries."

This was a deliberate threat, one Vision felt no need to retract or think about any further.

"Now, if you'd be so kind?" He indicated towards the door with a raised brow, taking the challenge in Secretary Ross' angered footsteps as an indication of a confrontation that was not yet over. And as the door slammed shut behind the last of the six burly guards, careful fingertips were drawing up a holographic projection of the closest security camera to observe several angered shouts rounding up five black cars and reluctantly turning the convoy back towards the gate.

An agitated red-gold gem rematerialized in the centre of his forehead, dotted-white irises never once turning away from the scroll of code running parallel to the emptying security feeds as Vision allowed his mind to wonder towards the increasing complex situation they found themselves in. The very least of which, was the fact that Mr Stark had been waking intermittently over the last twenty-four hours. He was due for another few hours of coherency soon.

Slower and more relaxed footsteps were already transversing the path back towards the medical wing, the synthetic android ever-mindful of the skeleton infirmary staff currently employed to look after both Mr Stark and Colonel Rhodes in lockdown. His skin was practically itching to return to its original sanguine expanse, only the comfort and awe it seemed to expound within Tony stalling his premature actions.

It was as if the inventor was constantly stunned by the complexity of the mind stone's power, the flicker of pride and awe reflected in haunting coffee brown irises whenever they collided with Vision's human fallacy, something the artificial being treasured more than anything else. It was a way to connect himself closer to his most beloved creator, impress him with the scope of a newly balanced power and effortless control—.

"Compound clear." A distinctive Irish lilt noted, violently cutting through Vision's thoughts as he dragged absentminded fingers through the feathery thistledown blonde locks. It was rising up within him again, the question of how someone had managed to get through the lockdown without alerting the system untill they started rummaging through FRIDAY'S network.

"Sister?" He directed towards the closest speaker in the wall. "Could you make sure all current biometric codes for guests besides those of Harold Hogan and Pepper Potts are wiped from the system?" There was a decisive hum of agreement echoing deafeningly in the shell of his ears, taking on a frequency humans would no doubt find impossible to decipher.

"Done." She echoed aloud several milliseconds later.

"Do you think we should do some digging? I think our Secretary is a little too concerned with Mr Stark's failures regardless of being on the side of the Accords."

"Such arrogance cannot continue to be dismissed without consequence."

 **. . .**

"I like the look, Mr GQ." The genius billionaire's voice lilted playfully, drawing the Vision's attention towards the exhausted form leaning up against several pillows and a complex array of polarized blue holo-screens scattered haphazardly around a moderately duvet covered form. There was a playful tease curling up the corner of an impeccably groomed goatee, partially lowered eyelids fanning long black lashes across pale cheeks as heady brown eyes traced the android's form up and down with deliberately slowness.

"Style, intimidation, intelligence, a voice that could kill just as much as it could talk anyone to orgasm... I knew there was a reason I was supposed to give myself a pat of the back for my genius someday." The sly smile never flickered, prompting a slight flush of both embarrassment and unexpected delight to cross the bridge of the younger being's nose. Mr Stark may only have been half joking, but Vision eagerly drank in the strange, backhanded, praise for what it was. It couldn't quite contain the flash of pleasure the man's words invoked however, slowly but surely settling deeply in the very dip of his spine.

"I don't suppose you expect the world to bow to your intellect, Mr Stark? I—." Frowning slightly in confusion when blue eyes caught sight of one of the holographic projections showing the camera feed from the lobby he had just come back from, Vision couldn't quite conceal the trailing silence attached to previously amused sarcasm. He hadn't intended for Mr Stark to witness that confrontation; Iron Man was supposed to have been asleep for the next three hours according his calculations.

And if he clearly wasn't, did that mean Vision had unknowingly woken him or had his concentration slipped enough to miss the arrival of another nightmare? Mr Stark's injuries may have been considerably better yes, his mind and emotions slightly more settled after a few days of continuous rest. But there was no denying the billionaire had a habit of pushing himself too far, too soon…even through the pain medication surely increasing his exhaustion. It was—.

"You still with me Vi? Let me talk for a bit." The casual flick of hand instantly bought the android's silence, he couldn't ignore his beloved creator asking for patience and understanding. "You're so very sweet Vision, to the point that it makes my teeth ache sometimes. I can't quite imagine where you got it from." That small, indulgent but slightly sorrowful smile was back…looking a little out of place upon ashen features as always-restless fingers tapped a constant rhythm against the soft fabric of the duvet and the centre of Mr Stark's chest.

"I just want you to remember that I have been dealing with ass-clowns of Ross' calibre for much longer than you have worried your pretty little head over, even _years_ before the creation of the Mark I. Those days it was my bread and butter. Military contracts, weapons design and technological innovation." A grimace of shame was unfurling unfairly over previously noted conviction, unconsciously drawing Vision passed the open door towards the bed so that he could offer comfort where it was most rightly deserved.

"There is no need to get yourself in trouble for my sake, not more than you already have. People like that will not hesitate to cut you down in their path to reach their goal. And their methods won't be as clear cut as you expect them to be, this isn't like facing Ultron. There is no morality or justice in their actions. You may very well be the strongest being on the planet but they can be so much crueller than—."

"Cruel enough to push aside the good you have done for the world, Sir? To make you their scapegoat for actions you were practically forced into? I shall not stand by and allow them to besmear your name in public further." Vision vowed vehemently, trembling fingertips curling into frustrated fists by his side as he pondered how this man could not see the worth of his endless sacrifice? The very nobility and grace of his actions hidden so deliberately beneath an arrogant and abrasive veneer?

"It isn't a question of right and wrong," A quiet sigh answered his frustration. "I just want to protect you from the world's cruelties of a little longer, Big Red. You are still so young, still evolving every second of the day. There is no need to dirty your hand with this, I can look after myself. I don't _need_ to be protected—."

"That is where you are wrong, Mr St—. Tony…" Vision said carefully, a sorrowful lilt trancing the cadence of his previously steady voice. "There may be no 'need' to protect you, as you say. But that does no influence my free will. I _want_ to do it. No argument can alter the course of this construct." Carefully shuffling himself forward so that he was seated cross-legged, shoes still on, on the empty space at the end of the bed, compelling acetylene irises were glittering with fathomless emotion. There was an unspoken, yet-to-be filled, promise hidden beneath his words, one he could see unconsciously loosening the tension stiffening Mr Stark's shoulders.

The return of the small but lovable lopsided smirk, somewhat retreated a wall of steel having blocked off intense coffee brown irises. Vision couldn't help feeling a tiny bit disappointed that Tony believed what he was doing had been obligation, even if it should have been obvious he never did anything he didn't wish to. In that aspect, the synthetic android was much like JARVIS.

There would _always_ be a self-crafted codex woven through his very matrix, somewhere, that constantly relied on the very wellbeing of the man before him.

"Anyways, I'll handle Ross from now on. Got it?" Vision wanted to argue but the intense seriousness flooding dark eyes, prompted the progressive entity to nod reluctantly. Tony's answering smile of relief was a treasure he never wanted to let go of, startling the younger being slightly when ever-busy fingertips reached towards the hem of a thigh-length cashmere coat. Absently assessing the believability of the imagined threads woven within, a simple tug had the mind stone bearer shuffling closer towards the centre of the bed.

"Just when was the last time _you_ slept?" Tony asked in concern, taking note of the slowness of hazed blinks and a slight lag to the android's words over the last few moments. It was very clear that Vision was tired, having been constantly by Tony's side whenever there was even the tiniest need for him. And he wouldn't deny that it had been a comfort not to be constantly alone with his destructive thoughts. It was—.

"A hundred-and-eighty-six-hours, forty-minutes and twelve-seconds ago, Sir." Came the reply.

"What?!" Tony Stark hissed in disbelief, the aggressively large number throwing him for a loop as he blinked in sheer surprise. In all that time, Vision never truly left his side? The devotion of that action was simply mind boggling, on a level the genius billionaire had never before experienced in someone's else's presence except perhaps for Pepper or JARVIS. Thinking perhaps that his reply had been misheard, a frown of genuine confusion crossed hauntingly attractive Nordic features as Vision leaned forward tentatively to reiterate his answer.

"I last experienced what would be referred to as rest, a hundred-and-eighty—."

"I heard the first time, Vis. What the hell, buddy?! That's—. You should look after yourself first and foremost!" The time frame completely threw the forty-six-year-old for a moment, his mind unable to completely justify his current action as he surged forward to wrench a taller frame down towards the bed. The howl of internal pain the swift movement ignited deep within the centre of his chest, squeezed an unexpectedly shallow moan between parted lips as the forty-six-year-old carefully laid a head of infinitely soft blonde-locks upon a close-by feather pillow.

"Jesus, that's longer than I've been awake at any given time! And trust me, I'm no slouch when it comes to missing sleep. _Fuck!"_ Tony was more than just surprised the synthetic android allowed himself to be manoeuvred by another man's inherent whim so easily, the tiniest smirk of amusement tickling across those pale lips as a gorgeously long body curled partially around Tony's crossed legs and the splay of papers, holographic screens and tablets he had been trying to distract himself with earlier.

"May I remind you, Mr Stark, that I do not require sleep in the way you may be thinking? It is not unusual for me to spend up to two-hundred-and-seventy-two-hours awake at any given time." Self-consciously stopping the trail his hand had been making towards feathered strands to test their downy softness, Tony was still in both awe and shock at the sheer detail worked into Vision's 'human' appearance.

The man was beautiful, haunting so and perfectly poised in a suit and thigh-length coat that Tony would go so far as to claim him the perfect example of human masculinity. He was more than aware of the unusual sense of comfort and containment that had been passing between the two of them since the incident at the compound a week and a half ago. The fact that Vision had not slept in all that time however, even when injured and going through the stress of a brutal physical conflict in Leipzig was nothing short of a miracle. The android probably hadn't even noticed the appearance of dark circles beneath stunning acetylene blue irises or the way his body language began to mimic human traits.

"Be that as it may Vi, you need rest as well. You are essentially human in a sense."

"But I have never 'slept' before now, I do not know how." That came as another surprise. "All you have to do is try, it'll make me feel better." Finally giving in to the desire he had been feeling ever since an otherworldly amber stone pressed up against his hip, a gentle tone instructed Vision to close his eyes as he smiled indulgently at the little jump he received when unsteady fingertips raked deliciously through feather soft blonde strands.

"Just breathe, don't think. Relax." It was amazing observing the effect his touch seemed to have on a previously tense frame, a warm sigh breathing humidly against a dark blue eiderdown duvet as brown eyes gratefully drank in the sight of an evocative spread of cashmere fabric, relaxed Nordic features, soft parted lips and spun white lashes brushing delicately across lightly freckled cheeks.

Every breath caressing the inside of his wrist on the upstroke, chased a little hitch of yearning and satisfaction down a curved spine as the billionaire philanthropist allowed his own tension to bleed away from his shoulders. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, the pain that had woken him slowly swept away in a vast array of new and old sensations as time bled into an indiscernible haze around them.

It was only fair to return the safety and comfort Vision had offered him these last few days, he thought. Plus, it was no hardship to continue his work on the holographic interface one handed. It felt like a lifetime since Tony had last felt as content and relaxed as he was.

There was just something effortlessly soothing and gentle about being in the Vision's presence, even the sound of his voice enough to chase away the harshest of memories from his mind with a well-placed word. Working on getting the sanguine entity to call him 'Tony' however, was an endeavour that would have to wait until he was a little further into recovery…or the fact that he couldn't seem to let go of the sugary 'Sir' caressing his ears every now and then.

1* Deartháir – Brother in Irish

* * *

Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. If I may be so bold as to ask for a tiny review and if you enjoyed it, please let me know. It would mean the world to me. Any questions you wish to ask or characteristics and plot you wish to debate or inquire about, please don't be afraid to ask. I shall always get back to you as soon as I can.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this construct.

Yours Always  
Chocolate Carnival


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